


In Your Hands

by EILATANSAYAH



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EILATANSAYAH/pseuds/EILATANSAYAH
Summary: It's the day of the funeral.Apologies for any mistakes - when you're the author and you read your work over and over you can become a bit blind to them!
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	In Your Hands

Always his face, it was always his face. Never his waist or shoulders. Rarely his hand. A lot of the time it was hair. Sometimes his hair was stroked, other times ruffled, often it was caressed. Sometimes those hands touched his hair, moving the ends between their thumb and forefinger. Never pulling, just the lightest of touches, the lightest skim of fingers. Ultimately, in truth, every tiny motion through his hair however brief or extended was just a stop on those hands route to their final destination. His face.

Ben can feel those hands on his face right now. Calling to him, speaking a meaning that his ears are no longer able to hear.

And Sharon just looks like she hates him.

Slightly calloused fingertips turn his face. Callum’s big sad eyes meet his own. His thumb runs the side of Ben’s jawline.

Every justification for being here leaves Ben in an instant. Callum knew it was a mistake, was quietly vocal in his protestations to Ben’s “I’ll just stand at the back, out of her way.” But ultimately left the decision to Ben.

He turns to Sharon, “He was like a brother to me.” The statement falters, and he doesn’t need to hear to know it sounded weaker spoken out loud than the mantra he had running through his head.

Sharon bristles, “Only when it suited you, only when it meant getting one over me.”

At least that’s what he thinks she said.

He should be used to so many eyes on him. It’s not like this is the first time a scene has been set in the Queen Vic with him at the centre of it. Linda and Mick watch him from behind the bar. Shirley squints, her features unreadable as ever. Jay, with his stupid funeral top hat and tailcoat, is saying something to him. His mouth going through the motions but no word reaches Ben.

“This is my son’s funeral.” Dennis’s mischievous smiling face peers up from a photo frame. “Can’t I just bury him – can’t you just give me this.”

The hand still hasn’t left his face. Such a public display, so outspoken. How could Callum, who only six months ago was unable to comprehend his feelings for men now display so much strength? It shouldn’t be a surprise – Callum is strong and resolute and kind and warm. Everything that hand now rested against his cheek communicates.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Ben seems to say that a lot. Every decision he makes seems to be wrong. But the reasons must stand for something surely? However tenuous there were always reasons. Every action however disastrous had always been the direct result of a reason.

Keanu’s apparent ‘death’ had been for a reason. It was him or his Dad. Keanu’s death meant he wouldn’t find his Dad one day behind bars. Or worst still, dead someday from liver failure. A result of his nemesis – alcohol. He’d begged and pleaded with his father again and again – “do it my way” – because apparently the alternative of Ben organising the murder of Keanu was less devastating than the loss of the man who meant more to Ben than he could comprehend.

But where was he now? No one had seen Phil Mitchell in weeks. No one had heard from him in weeks. The last glimpse he’d had of Phil was across the barrel of a gun of which it’s trigger he’d threatened to pull if his Dad didn’t let Keanu live. And that had only happened to save the man whose hand still cradled his face.

He couldn’t lose Callum ever again, was ready to shot his own father rather than face a future without him. Knew that last week when Callum was ready to quit on what they had that it would be the end of Ben. He’d begged and cried and murmured “sorry” – his new favourite word, over and over again, feeling that his whole world was beginning to end. When he’d felt Callum’s hands clutch at his face Ben knew that he would be okay.

Ben allowed himself to believe this now with Callum next to him, standing so close, lips moving, a one-syllable question – “Ben?”

Everything seems to utterly pointless now. All his priorities backward. He broke up with the most amazing man to protect his father who now wasn’t even here when Ben needed him the most. But this is nothing new – that man had never been there when needed.

Jay catches his gaze, “I think you should go.” he says, calm and reasonable just like the way Jay says everything.

He just wants to say goodbye to his Brother. He just wants to show he’d cared even when there was so little to demonstrate the point when Dennis had been alive. Everyone’s watching. Tiffany looks to the floor. Sonia grips Martin’s sleeve who himself appears to be struggling – his own participation haunting him.

Ben can feel tears threatening. He waivers and that hand moves to the back of his head, propelling him towards the door before his legs fail him. So kind of Callum to help him keep face.

They’re quickly back in the flat. A single tear runs down Ben’s cheek and Callum wipes it away with his thumb. His face again, cradled. Callum’s large hands comforting him, holding him up against the kitchen units.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes pressed closed and Ben feels another tear escape despite best efforts to cut off its exit.

He feels, rather than hears Callum’s response and Ben opens his eyes.

“I said it’s OK”, Callum softly smiles, “I know you cared for Dennis…” he lets the ‘despite what Sharon says’ or ‘despite that it seemed otherwise’ or however that sentence was meant to end hang in the air.

“I wasn’t trying to cause more grief.”

“I know.” he pushes a kiss to Ben's forehead.

“If I could go back, undo everything – there isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t change!” Ben sobs hard into Callum’s chest. The other man strokes the back of his head.

They find themselves on the sofa. Ben’s eyes raw, his head pounding. He wonders at how often Callum sees his tears, almost wants to laugh at how through all his desperate posturing Callum sees him. Feels lucky to have fallen in love with a man who cares about him so much.

Callum lightly clutches Ben’s chin, “You OK?”

How is it that in almost every situation Ben is touched, cradled, soothed, caressed and stroked by the wonderful hands of the man who now meant more to him than any relationship he could hope to have with his father. How is Callum still here? How can he always find a way in all this mess to be exactly where Ben needs him to be?

“I’m gonna be OK.”

Callum’s studying Ben for a moment seems to agree.

“I’ll make a brew.”

But Ben presses his hand to Callum’s. Stops him getting up.

“I love you.”

There’s a pause, as if no words were spoken at all and Ben wonders if he even said them out loud. But then Callum’s exhaling and looking at him. “I know,” he speaks softly and then they are nose to nose with Ben right back where he should be – in Callum’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> This short piece is inspired by the trailer that appeared on youtube today. Also, I love how often Callum touches Ben's face - the intimacy is so beautiful!


End file.
